In loving memory of my son, John McBride, who passed away, March 29, 1992.

When God calls our children to dwell with Him above,

We mortals sometimes question the wisdom of His love.

For no heartache compares with the death of one child,

Who does so much to make our world seem wonderful and mild.

Perhaps God tires of calling the aged to His fold,

So He picks a rosebud before it can grow old.

God knows how much we need them and so He takes but a few

To make the land of heaven more beautiful to view.